


Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

by AugustSkull



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell, Bad Body damage, Broken/Chipping Bones, Bruises, Conversion of Universes, Depressed Sans, Don't worry, Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), Even Snarkier and Meaner Papyrus, Harsh Papyrus, Hurt/Comfort, It make sense in the end, Lovestruck Sans, M/M, Mentions of UT Life, Papyrus makes sure that Sans knows he's actually loved in the end, Sans likes it in the end so, Self Conflict about suicide, Snarky!Sans, Suicide Attempt, Underfell Papyrus, Underfell Sans, Use of Magic to Control, Usual mean underfell stuff, Verbal Abuse, domestic abuse, future rough sex, he fails, he turns into putty in Papyrus' hands, it's great, please wait for epilouge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 15:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7538608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AugustSkull/pseuds/AugustSkull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans has had enough. Between the Boss, the everyday struggle, the rut that has been created of just trying to avoid doom, the never ending thoughts and memories that trail in his mind, and the lack of tolerance he's grown for the word "love", he is through with it all. He's decided to go away.</p><p>But Papyrus won't let him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm new. Well, not new as far as writing, but new as far as writing Undertale. I have another account on here too, so I like to think of this as my "strictly Undertale" account.
> 
> Because I am new, please do not get mad if I get something wrong. I've only been loving Undertale for about a month or two. Just correct me (or better yet, just appreciate what I've done to change things up) and move on. 
> 
> There **WILL** be contemplation and suicide attempts in the future chapters (this is only gonna be like 3 chapters). You have been warned.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> SEX IN THE NEXT CHAPTER FUCK YES

* * *

 

 

_Another punch...and I’m done._

 

Sans tried to convince himself that would happen and that he would fight back. Actually, he wasn’t able to lift a bone off of his bed from the utter pain he was feeling. He heard his Boss give a curse with what sounded like a defeated sigh as he laid another punch against Sans’ ribcage. Sans finally coughed, groaning lowly. He lifted his hands, spreading them open in surrender.

 

“Pathetic. Lazy and weak,” Papyrus grumbled and finally grabbed a hold of Sans. The older skeleton gave an embarrassing cry as he felt Papyrus’ fingers curl tight around his bones. His left hand clung a strong, sharp hold to his sensitive, floating rib while his left wrapped around his lumbar. His claws sunk into the bone, actually scratching it to where some magic leaked to try and relieve the hurt. Before Sans could even think past the agony that he was feeling, he felt himself fly up from his bed and towards the wall. The blanket scattered from his body and landed somewhere unknown and the cold hit his body unforgivingly. His Boss tossed him hard and Sans impacted the far wall with such force, he felt his femur chip. His ribs gave, caving in for a split second before bouncing back to their normal position. Sans landed on the floor with a solid _thud_ and he gave no noise. He didn’t want to give his Boss that satisfaction of knowing how much pain he was in.

 

Liquid magic oozed from his soul, filling his eyes. His sockets stung and burned as he squeezed out the vermillion liquid as if they were tears. They rolled down his cheeks; they mocked him and how weak he was.

 

“Your health is a joke,” Papyrus actually gave a hearty laugh that was laced with malice. Sans, who was facing the wall, could hear his Boss’ boots stamping the floor with each step. They got louder and Sans felt a cold chill race down his vertebra when Papyrus rested a boot on his left shoulder blade. “What have we learned? Surely, there must be a lesson you’ve gathered so early in the morning.”

 

Sans coughed, not being able to find his voice. He fought back the flowing tears that continued to stream down his cheeks like a running river. Papyrus must have taken note of this because there was a bitter “nyeh, heh, heh” that was just audible enough to hear.

 

“Speak! Pitiful whelp, I asked you a question!”

 

“G-get up…”

 

“Get up, _what_ ?” Papyrus started to apply pressure to Sans’ already weakening bones. Any more and Sans would have snapped - not in a way that Papyrus would actually like with him fighting back and actually showing that animalistic, hateful side that he knew was deeply embedded into that weak soul of his. Sans was about to be  _dusted._ Papyrus could feel just how low Sans’ health was and how dim his light was becoming. He would never actually kill Sans; he wasn’t that careless. He just hoped that with that extra push, maybe the older skeleton would find that spark to sent his hateful soul aflame and perhaps being on the brink of death would get that fire going. There was no room to be lazy or kind in this world and no matter what Papyrus did to teach him that, Sans never learned.There were no hateful flames that would bring Papyrus hope. There was just damp, dark _helplessness_.

 

“G-get up when you say get up,” Sans answered past gritted teeth. “B-Boss,” he finished.

 

“Not good enough,” Papyrus snarled and reached down to pick Sans up by the collar of his t-shirt. He heard a _whimper_ from the other monster and somewhere, deep in his very core, the younger skeleton’s soul lept with satisfaction. “Don’t tempt me with such noises,” he chuckled darkly and started to drag Sans away from the wall. “Damn you. I will not grow weak and empathetic to you.”

 

“Boss…” Sans whispered. Papyrus looked behind him to see the bruises and marks beginning to form on his maxilla and mandible. There was a darkening circle that rung around Sans’ left eyesocket.

 

 _Tasty._ Papyrus grinned viciously, summoning his tongue for a split second to lick his dry teeth. Who knows what kind of markings would show if Papyrus lifted that shirt of his? The taller monster felt _proud_ with himself seeing what he could do to Sans, but at the same time he was ashamed.

 

He was ashamed at how much of a sorry slug Sans was.

 

Sans looked up at Papyrus, the reds of his eyes hopeful that he would finally be shown mercy. Papyrus felt his bones grow heavy when he saw that look on the older monster’s face and he gave a disgusted grimace. He tightened his fist around Sans’ shirt, puncturing a couple of holes in it before letting go.

 

“Get dressed. You better be downstairs and ready for work in ten minutes,” Papyrus demanded. He headed out the door, fists curled at his sides that swung angrily with each step he took. “If you aren’t down there,” he said, turning back and pointing his sharp finger at Sans. There was a terrifying scowl on his face that made Sans freeze. He even held his breath, so scared that Papyrus would lunge if he were to even flinch. “If I have to come up here to get you, you’ll regret it.”

 

_That’s it? I’ll regret it? Maybe he is getting soft, the damn fucker._

 

Sans didn’t dare to say that aloud. His health - his one health - was low enough as it is and he still had to survive the rest of the day. It just gave him all the more reason to go to Grillby’s as much as he wanted and avoid his post today. Papyrus slammed the door and Sans slowly started to get up from the floor. He wobbled and cursed, feeling his bones groan and crack underneath his standing weight.

 

_Shit, what’s even the point._

 

There it was. That wave of sadness and hopelessness that got him into this mess to begin with. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to go outside and see people. He didn’t want to have to try and defend his life every single time he stepped out the door.

 

He didn’t want to have to face the Boss again.

 

He gritted his teeth, the sadness now being pushed down by annoyance and anger. He started to rummage through his closet, finding his crumpled jacket that was on the floor of the wardrobe and he threw it on. He didn’t even change his t-shirt. He just wanted to say “fuck it” to everything. He started to find his pants, all while grumbling to himself about how much he hated Papyrus and how _badly_ he wanted the Boss to die. He felt his eyes grow an even brighter red as he continued to mutter out of anger and soon, he realized that he was beginning to rip his clothes, pretending that they were his Boss.

 

“I'm gonna kill him. F-fucking _hate_ his dumbass,” he started to shout, but calmed himself and it ended with a mutter. He frowned, the hateful words he just said about Papyrus echoing through his head.

 

_No, no. That isn’t true...I don’t hate him. I don’t hate my...brother..._

 

“Keep telling yourself that,” he continued to speak to himself and found another pair of pants and put them on. He was actually surprised that he still referred Papyrus as that - as something more in their relationship such as a sibling. Boss reminded him of how unworthy he was to be called a ‘brother’. Papyrus was his _Boss_ and nothing more. He grinded his teeth together, still thinking about the taller skeleton and how furious he was with him for doing all of the awful things that he did, but soon, his thoughts began to travel back to a simpler time - a time where they were both happy and smiling, and they were _brothers_.

 

They were so little and so...stupid back then. They were both cheery and full of wonders and - dare he even _think_ it - love. How innocent and doe-eyed they were to the point that Sans got queasy even thinking about it.

 

He sighed. He didn’t _want_ to think about the past. He didn’t want to be reminded of all the things that could have been compared to what things are now. He didn’t want that ache of being constantly reminded of what kind of Hell he and Papyrus are going through. The Boss learned to accept it, like always. Sans, on the other hand, didn’t want to. He hated everything about his life. He thought at one point that there was a rhyme and a reason to continue, but knowing just how much he’s unwanted and uncared for really stifled it. His soul had darkened to that bloody red to where love was no longer a fathomable feeling and to even think about being loved, receiving love, or showing love left a taste in his mouth that was worse than Dog Residue.

 

Sans found his belt and looped it around his pants, refusing to pull it tight so that his pants would sag. He only did this because he knew just how crazy his brother got when he saw the arches of his ilium peaking out, like a _whore,_ Papyrus always told him. He checked the time and saw he still had a couple of minutes before Papyrus came up here to beat his ass. He quickly gathered a few more of his normal accessories to go with his attire such as his chain and spiked wristlet and left his room without making his bed.

 

“About fucking time,” Papyrus spat when Sans closed his door. Sans didn’t even make it to the first stair and he groaned as Papyrus continued to talk. “You almost missed the mark, but surprisingly, you didn’t fuck up my orders. You really must be scared of me.” Sans couldn’t see Papyrus, which meant he was in the kitchen.

 

“Damned if I do, damned if I don’t,” the older skeleton heaved in defeat and made his way down the stairs. He smelled breakfast and actually felt thankful. He turned to go into the kitchen and he saw Papyrus coming out with already made plates in his hands. Sans was taken back a bit to see Papyrus actually took the time to do this, but he didn’t complain as he took the plate from Papyrus’ hand. He didn’t know whether he should say “thank you” or “fuck you” so he went with a mutter of “thanks, asshole.” He headed towards their table and sat down scarfing down his food as if he was starving. He already felt his little bit of health regenerating.

 

“You eat like a pig and you look like shit,” Papyrus scolded, pointing towards the bruises that covered Sans’ face. The older skeleton had to squint his right eye, feeling the contusion and chips encompassing it. He was in a lot of agony, but the food was helping and so he took another big bite.

 

“You nearly fucking killed me, Boss,” Sans snapped. “In case you forgot.”

 

“You like pain, idiot.”

 

“Yeah, when we’re fucking. Not when you’re actually angry at me,” Sans hissed back, shoving another forkful of bacon in his mouth. He took a sip of his mustard and saw Papyrus rolling the reds of his eyes.

 

“Haven’t you figured out that I’m always angry at you? It’s because you’re weak. I shouldn’t have shown you grace this morning,” the Boss said with a mouthful of eggs. “I guess that makes me weak, like you.”

 

“You aren’t weak Boss. Maybe you don’t hate me as a much as you like to think,” Sans chuckled with a light wink, baring past the string that it caused him. In reality, his soul was racing for even thinking of saying something like that. He saw Papyrus tighten his fingers around his fork. “Don’t hate me as much as I hate you.”

 

“Please, I would literally pay to watch you die,” the Boss said nonchalantly.

 

“Why pay when you can do it for free?” Sans asked, baring down on his teeth. His gold tooth shimmered with what little light they had in their house. “You were awful close this morning. Why didn’t you just go ahead and do it?” Sans felt his soul weigh heavily on him and sadness started to kick in again. “Get it the fuck over with.”

 

“I’m wondering the same thing,” Papyrus hissed. “I’ll know better next time. Maybe if you fought back once in a while, I wouldn’t have to force myself to not kill you. You have so much power, Sans. So much potential. Why don’t you use it?!”

 

Sans pushed away his plate, grabbing the rest of the food in his hands and stuffing it in his mouth. He wiped the grease on his jacket before beginning to head out. Papyrus growled when he walked past him and Sans smirked when he saw Papyrus’ eyes immediately fall on his exposed pelvis arches.

 

“Ignorant slut. Pull your fucking pants up. You wear a belt for a reason. ‘Less you want to get some free sex, at least look classy for those dogs.”

 

“I’ll get all the _tail_ I want, free or not,” Sans said, inwardly groaning at his own bad joke. “You’re trying to hold back from bending me over right now, huh?”

 

“Please, you’re fucking disgusting,” Papyrus barked and started to pick up the plates.

 

“Fuck you.” It wasn’t the same. Today was different than all the rest. Something inside of the older monster sank deep and crashed. Sans was upset after their conversation this morning, even if it was a normal conversation that they manage to have every morning. He would never show Papyrus that he was sick of it, however. He would never show the Boss any sort of emotion. Neither of them deserved that conversation and he knew that he didn’t deserve the ass beating that the Boss would give him if he found out that he was “sad”.

 

 _He would say something like “You better be fucking grateful I deal with your sorry self on a daily basis.”_  The words “Papyrus” and “Caring” do not belong in the same sentence unless the words “is not” is there.

 

Before he left, Sans flipped off Papyrus, who was finishing cleaning his plate, and slammed the door.

 

He had no intentions of coming back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans attempts, but fails. He didn't realize he had a particular "audience" either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relationship status: Complicated.
> 
> If I made any mistakes, kindly correct me.
> 
> SEX IN THE NEXT CHAPTER FUCK YES

* * *

 

 

He walked, hissing with nearly each step he took. The pain of the beatings from earlier this morning was beginning to thicken. He started to limp, his femur that was shattered near the joint giving him such a terrible time with walking. His mind was racing, his soul pounding thick in his ribs. A sickening feeling of despair and unsettlement flooded his skull. He felt like this before, but now came the bad excitement of actually following through with it.

 

He could have simply teleported there. Hotland was a long walk away, it would have been simpler to be there in a flash and just get it done and over with. He didn’t want to, however. He didn’t want to admit to himself that maybe he didn’t want this after all. There was also the fact that the pain that he was feeling from walking was satisfying, pulling him away from the emotional hurt that he was experiencing and taking him away from reality. 

 

Soon, it wouldn’t matter. 

 

Sans walked slower, hands getting stuffed further into his jacket. His mind was contradicting itself, not leaving him alone about this decision he was about to make.

 

_ Just go back.  _

 

_ Teleporting there is faster. _

 

_ Give it another day. I haven’t even given this much thought. _

 

_ I don’t want another day. Papyrus said he wants me dead, so I’ll let it happen. There’s nothing here for me. _

 

He got angry, hearing Papyrus’ hateful voice fill his head and he clenched his fists tight in his jacket. The words of what he said: paying to watch Sans die hit the older skeleton harder than it should have. It was basically something Papyrus said every day to him, but for some reason today was different. 

 

He never fully understood what happened with the timelines. The cosmos and the plethora of universes must have crossed paths and fucked up some way or another because he was having more and more memories of him and Papyrus being together. He, Papyrus, and everyone else seemed to change and was different compared to back then. Hate came natural, now. Killing was easy. Love was unheard of. Sparing was not an option. 

 

However, Sans didn’t even realize that there  _ was  _ another life up in a different world until he found something that probably should have disappeared along with the rest of his life that once was: an old sock that Sans happened to find stuffed in the ungodly depths of his room. He only found it a couple of weeks ago when Papyrus beat him so silly to clean his room until he was tired of throwing punches. Sans would only do it with the promise of a nice fuck after he got through cleaning which Papyrus finally agreed to. The sock was so old and dirty, filled with dust and cobwebs. Sans wondered how it got there because he doesn’t normally leave socks in  _ very _ weird places. He knows for sure that he didn't put it there, did he?

 

That’s when the memories began. The previous world was only viewed in Sans’ eyes as if it were just a dream. It was more of a  _ feeling _ than an actual, decent memory and that’s why Sans never wanted to think about them. Memories were only fragmented, blurry segments that were faint and remote, but left the same emotions that he felt during that time. They would only come to his head at random times, as well. He hated it; every single thought of it was absolute pain and not the kind that he liked, either. His heavy, scarlet soul darkened and he knew that this is what he had to do to escape.

 

He decided to teleport the rest of the way there.

  
  


*

  
  


_ Maybe I should take my coat off and leave it. That way they will have a vague idea of what happened to me,  _ Sans continued to think as he approached the bridge, but he quickly threw away the idea. No one cared. In this world, no one cared and they would rather see you dead anyway. He didn’t bother to look around to see if anyone was watching him. Even if they were, what did it matter? If they were to kill him first before he killed himself, it would be no difference. 

 

Not to them, not to him, and especially not to the Boss.

 

He squinted as he went on the bridge, the lava underneath him burning brighter than normal. He felt the heat starting to rise, quickly surrounding his suffocating bones that were smothered in his thick jacket. A thin layer of sweat started to form around the front of his skull. He quickly wiped it away.

 

_ This is it. _

 

Sans frowned as he got towards the middle of the bridge. He had to prep himself, but he turned towards the side of the bridge and looked down. Underneath him, the lava roared loudly. The flames burned hot, the little wisps at the very peak of the flame seeming to wave towards him to coax him in. Sans felt the reds of his eyes grow wide, staring deep into the lava when he got used to how bright it was.

 

_ This is it… _ his mind repeated. He shifted his weight ever so  _ slightly,  _ but then backed off. His soul skipped with terror.  _ Do it,  _ he thought.  _ Go ahead. End it. _

 

“I should have never found that sock,” he whimpered and closed his eyes. “I wish I never found it. I would have never known about the other life if I never found it.  I was just fine before then…” Sans sniffled, feeling his eyes beginning to flood with the liquid vermillion that leaked from his soul. “But now…it’s too late.”

 

_ Then do it. _

  
_ Don’t do it.  _ It was a clear voice that he heard in his head, but his mind fought back. He ignored it. It was small and muffled, completely insignificant, although it sounded oddly...recognizable. He swayed forward again, but caught himself once more.

 

_ Do it, now. _

 

_ Don’t do it! _

 

Sans was conflicted and he felt anxiety pressing against his sternum. His soul fluttered in the worst of ways and he looked down to the lava. It swirled with black, red, and yellow before the black caught fire from the intense heat.

 

_ Do it!  _

 

Sans leaned forward and held his breath.

 

_ “Don’t do it!” _ screamed the familiar voice, with the tone of something that was from a far and distant timeline. It was a deep, naturally lax voice, just like his own but it was smooth and less scratchy.

 

Sans’ gasped and threw himself backwards in order to save himself from falling, not really understanding what just happened. All he knew was that he chickened out. He landed on the bridge with a harsh  _ thud _ , but he didn’t care. He got up as quickly as he could and he ran away. He didn’t go far. Pain from bruised and battered bones told him to stop and so he just started to hobble like a newborn foal.

 

“N-no. No, I can’t fucking do this,” he whispered brokenly, beginning to cry once again. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I just…”

 

_ I just want Papy. _

 

He continued to limp, but he wasn’t going anywhere at a decent pace. He felt so defeated and so weak to the point that he just wanted to break down on the ground.

 

_ I want to see Paps. I’ve been an asshole. I want to see him. _

 

He knew that was a bad idea. He hadn’t been to his post at all and he hasn’t been around Snowdin. Papyrus will know he hasn’t been there and there will be Hell to pay if he were to go home. 

 

He finally teleported, deciding to go to Snowdin only to go to Grillby’s. 

  
  
  


*

 

It was late when Sans finally decided to come home. He had been spending nearly six hours at Grillby’s. Three mustard and a half mustard bottles later, he was reduced to a blubbering mess with his head down on the table. His Boss was right. He was a failure. He failed at being a good worker, a good fighter, a good lackie, and everything in between. He kept his hood on, not wanting anyone to mess with him or give him any attention. Thankfully, that worked for the most part. For the monsters that would want to pick a fight with him, he simply ignored them. He just sat there, thinking of another way to off himself and maybe if he would have the gall to do it and if his soul would let him. 

 

_ I was close. Why did I stop?  _ He thought about the other voice that he heard and how  _ real _ it sounded. It sounded as if someone was screaming in his head, telling him to stop. He didn’t think about it much because it only hurt his skull to dwell and it put so much strain on his soul.

 

Sans swallowed thickly and finished the rest of his mustard. He wiped his mouth and got up from the booth, deciding it was time to go home.  He was still wobbly, but his health was almost completely healed. The bruises and the fractured bones still remained, but that didn’t matter. He made them look good and he knew Papyrus loved the way they looked on him.

 

_ See? Already feeling better _ , he lied. He convinced himself that if he forgot all about today and just left everything alone, he could start over. He could forget all about the sock, all about the attempt, and everything will be set as right as rain - the usual Hellhole that it was. He just had to ignore it.  _ Maybe he won’t totally kick my ass when I enter the door. I could persuade him that he could face and skull fuck me as much as he wants until he passes the fuck out.  _

 

He decided that would work. Actually, the threat of Papyrus beating him was now empty and he no longer cared. He teleported the once again to their door and pulled out his keys. He turned the key, but he hummed in slight confusion when he found out that the door was already unlocked.

 

_ That isn’t like Boss to do that. He always locks the door. Sometimes he purposely locks me out… _

 

Sans pushed opened the door to find the colorful light of the T.V shining bright so much so that the reds of his eyes strained to see. It was those colored bars that indicated there was no signal due to Mettaton’s show being over, however the T.V was still on. Sans thought this, too, was strange. Papyrus never left the T.V on when nothing was on. It wasted what little energy they had. Perhaps it was to act as some light for the house. 

 

Sans tried to make sense of it all as he shut the door and took off his snowy jacket. He kicked off his shoes, purposely letting them fall sloppily beside Papyrus’ boots that were neatly set up. The older skeleton looked back towards the T.V and nearly yelled out in surprise when he saw the back of the Boss’ head. The Boss seemed to be fixated on the T.V and Sans shut his mouth tight to keep himself silent.

 

_ Maybe he doesn’t realize I’m here.  _

 

Sans made a plan to sneak upstairs, but before he could even get one foot forward, he heard Papyrus clear his throat.

 

“Where were you?” he asked, calmly. Sans noted just how _ controlled _ the Boss’ tone was and it made him all the more nervous. His spine began to shiver and shake with fear. 

 

“G-Grillby’s.”

 

“You lie,” Papyrus said with a laugh behind his voice. It was a harsh, razor sharp laugh that made Sans cringe. “Do you think I’m stupid?” 

 

There was a slur in the Boss’ voice that made the older skeleton raise his eyeridge in concern. He started to step closer towards the younger skeleton, knowing fully well that it would probably end in the instant death that he has been longing for. He came to the side of the couch, trying to maximize his distance to Papyrus as much as he could. 

 

“I’m not lying. I was definitely at Grillby’s for at least five hours,” Sans said honestly. He was puzzled, but no so much that he wanted to get too close to the Boss. He still sounded unhappy and when Boss is unhappy, Sans was forced to understand how unhappy he really was. 

 

“And before then?!” Papyrus asked, looking over at Sans. As he raised his voice, he threw his fists in the air and landed them on his femurs harshly. Sans flinched and jumped back for a split second, but stopped. Papyrus didn’t lunge at him. So far, so good. “Tell me, Sans! You weren’t at your station. You weren’t lazing about at Grillby’s! Tell me the truth now or I’ll pull it out of you!”

 

Sans saw the reds in the Boss’ eye and he felt cold at the realization. They were wide and foggy instead of that crisp and clear light. His shivering spine didn’t let up and he backed away as slowly as he could.

 

“B-Boss, you’re drunk. I-I’m sorry.” 

 

“I’m drunk for a reason, Sans. Tell me the truth! I know you were at those two places and I want to hear it from your own stupid mouth where you were at.”

 

“What makes you so sure that I wasn’t at my station or Grillby’s? I go no where else, Boss, you know that!” he realized he was getting a little too loud. He shifted his weight back and forth, trying to calm his racing soul. 

 

“I  _ saw _ you,” he growled slowly and got up from the couch, his bones hands curled into fists. 

 

Sans took a step back, his arm covering his chest, making sure to place it over his soul to shield it. His bones shook and he was a trembling mess as he continued to head towards the wall. At first, he didn’t understand what Papyrus meant when he said that he “saw” him, but it became very clear and his eyes widened. 

 

“At the bridge?” he asked softly. “B-Boss…”

 

Papyrus rumbled lowly, sounding like a predacious lion. He continued to come forward and Sans continued to retreat backwards until his spine finally hit the wall. He gasped and looked for another escape route but before he could figure it out, he was frozen. He felt his brother’s magic encompass him, seizing his soul to the point that he couldn’t control his own body anymore. Sans struggled and it only made the Boss chuckle out of bitterness.

 

“Still so pathetic, even after your little attempted stunt today. You resist, yet you seem like you want to die.” Papyrus lifted his hand, thus taking Sans off of the ground as well. The older skeleton continued to struggle, squirming in jagged movements against the magic. “So, which one is it, Sans? Do you want to die or do you want to live?”

 

Sans didn’t answer. Not because he physically couldn’t, which was true, but because he didn’t know the answer, himself. He just stared at the Boss with lackluster eyes that were so dim that it seemed that only the void of his eye sockets were there. 

 

“I saw you and your expression at the bridge in Hotland,” Papyrus began, his voice solemn. “Your face looked at the lava and it seemed...wanting. I never saw such passion on your face before. I saw how badly you longed to jump and I waited for you to do it. I was wondering if you had the fucking nerve to do it and I continued to wait. You swayed back and forth and every time I thought you would take the opportunity to jump, you didn’t. Undyne called my name and I look away for  _ one _ second and when I turn back around...you were gone. I searched the lava and I saw only fire. I looked around to see if maybe you just ran away, but you were gone.” Papyrus squeezed his fist and Sans felt his the pressure of his bones beginning to cave in on themselves. 

 

Papyrus looked down towards his feet, his fist still closed tightly. Sans saw his collarbones and ribcage rise and fall as he breathed heavily. “And...I was convinced that I lost my only b-brother,” he finished. He was monotoned and very quiet, obviously hesitant to speak this kind of talk. “That’s why.”

 

His fists opened and the magic dissipated. Sans gave a grunt when he fell on the ground. He hesitated to pick himself up because he was  _ shocked _ at what he just heard.

 

_ Brother? Did he just call me his…?   _ Sans whimpered, gritting his teeth tightly. He didn’t want to blush, but he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t know how to feel. His soul felt  _ warm _ like never before and he gave a wobbly smile.

 

“Get up, you buffoon,” Papyrus said with that familiar anger in his voice. Sans never lost his smile. He was yanked up by the collar of his t-shirt once more, so much so that he was nearly lifted off of the ground. “What I want is to know why you tried to do it, Sans,” Papyrus’ voice got lower. “I never thought I would see you like that. I noticed you have been more and more disconnected lately. Not like your usual, lazy, good-for-nothing self, but in a way that makes me actually  _ worry  _ about you. That’s why I’ve been gracious towards your terrible, sour mood. I mean,  _ fuck _ . What’s gotten into you?”

 

“I dunno, Boss...I’m sorry. I -- ” Sans began to fumble on his words, still trying to comprehend what was happening between them. The red magic dusted his cheeks so much so that even Sans started to see his own glow. 

 

“ _ Brother,”  _ Papyrus said and Sans shuddered. He was definitely not used to this kind of talk coming from the Boss. So caring, so kind, so close and personal; now he called him  _ brother _ ? “I don’t want you to die,” he said simply. He yanked the shirt more, forcing Sans to come further off of the ground, but at some point, Sans just supported himself on his knees and allowed the Boss to continue to pull at his shirt. “If you will be dead, it will be by my hand alone.” Papyrus paused, looking off to the side and sighing. “If I  _ ever _ see you try to do something like that again, I will purposely make you fail and then beat some fucking sense into your thick skull.”

 

“That’s so…” Sans hesitated, not wanting to say something that would suddenly shatter this moment. This had to be a dream, right? This was a sick joke. “Boss, why are you doing this? You’re being nice to me. I’m getting queasy from it.”

 

Papyrus rolled his eyes and using the rest of his strength, pulled Sans off of his knees and up to his level. Sans had a  _ wild _ blush that almost coated the entirety of his face. His wobbly smile turned into a shark-toothed grin that showed his glimmering gold tooth. 

 

“God, look at you. You’re like a sick puppy,” Papyrus sighed and pulled Sans in for a skeleton kiss. Sans froze, feeling his soul swell so much that it nearly burst at the seams. The Boss  _ surely _ must have been drunk if he was doing this. He didn’t complain though. It was nothing too deep; they didn’t even summon their tongues. The notion, however, was more than enough to make Sans be completely lovestruck, giggling like a drunken fool when they parted. Papyrus groaned, and shook his head. He raised his hand, creating a red misty swirl of magic coil around Sans.

 

“B-Boss, I can’t even remember the last time we kissed,” Sans laughed, not even caring about the particles of magic was grabbed at his wrists and neck. With a single swipe of his hand, Papyrus forced Sans onto the floor, head down, wrists behind his back and tail in the air. It was a nice solid crash on the floor and Papyrus knew that would cause his blackened eye socket to get worse. Sans grinned wickedly, giving a slight moan of excitement of what was ahead. “Does being all sweet to me make you have a  _ bone _ r?” 

 

Suddenly, Sans was forced to be quiet by a strip of magic that clung to his mouth, not allowing it to open. Sans recognized it as a magical, tentacle-like appendage that was controlled by the Boss. Papyrus growled.

 

“Shut your idiotic mouth. Remember how I mentioned my grace of allowing you to talk way too fucking much? It ends now,” Papyrus said. He grabbed Sans head harshly, squeezing his skull and pulled back  _ hard _ . Sans gave a yelp as it was physically difficult for Sans to arch his back while being in the position he was in. Vertebra popped and joints strained and his spine cracked under pressure. “I hope you didn’t think this was going to be some sort of romantic ending where I forgive you and adorn you with hugs and kisses,” he said with an evil chuckle. “I want you to remember what happens when you decide to try and leave me. Because that’s just the thing, pathetic brother.”

 

Papyrus leaned down towards the floor to Sans’ level. He summoned his tongue which drew forth long, warm, and wet and he traced it over the temporal bone of Sans’ skull where there was a nice, blackened bruise that had yet to even begin to fade. Sans gave a loud, pleasing noise and he squirmed needily. “You  _ can’t _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO! Please stick around for the epilogue of what's happening to UF!Sans having "memories" and visions of the original universe. There is an explanation for this in the end. I know it's a bit confusing right now, but it will be answered. Thank you so much for your patience~

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, Sans is the older brother here. I know Sans being older seems "canon", but I do read stories to where he is the younger brother. So I just want to eliminate all confusion by saying he's older here.  
> \---  
> There will now be 4 chapters total due to the fact that I write way too fucking much and I change things way to fucking often. Next chapter will be sexy times and the fourth chapter will be the epilogue.


End file.
